


A tube of cream

by thecat_13145



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bullying, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Homophobic Language, Murder, Racist Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-09 04:43:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecat_13145/pseuds/thecat_13145
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson has being in love with Sherlock ever since little Carl Powers</p>
            </blockquote>





	A tube of cream

**Author's Note:**

> This came from the miss reading of a kinkmeme prompt as John/Sherlock, He's being in love with Sherlock ever since little Carl Powers. By the time I realised it should be Jim/Sherlock, this story was fully formed and there was nothing I could do about it.  
> Couple of other notes, John's middle name is owed to By any other name by Westron Wynde. John's middle name became canon for me then.  
> Warning, there is a lot of references to bullying and some not nice langague used by the bullies. Sorry.  
> I hope people enjoy it

Carl Powers was not a nice boy.

In fact, he was a bully and while no one would admit it, when the Head Master announced at morning assembly that he would not be coming back to the school, there were those, both pupils and teachers who let out a sigh of relief. Loudest among them were John Heathcliff Watson and Richard Brookes.

Richard had being Carl’s chief victim. John wasn’t sure why, other than Richard didn’t come from Brighton and talked funny. Some of the teachers called his voice Melodious, but Carl disagreed. He called Richard “Paddy” and bog trotter. He and his gang flick potatoes at Richard, or pour green paint into his locker before PE. Once he and Sebastian caught Richard as he was walking home and shoved his face down into a mud puddle, calling him a bog eater.

John had being walking by when they did this. He didn’t know why he got involved, why he didn’t just walk by like everyone else did, but by the end of it, he and Richard were friends or at least fellow suffers and Carl had two chief victims.

Carl called them “fags” or “homos” and when Richard got a part in the school play as Oberon, John knew their lives were over!

Except now Carl wasn’t coming back.  
It was sad for his family, of course, but still No more Carl. At the same time, John couldn’t help feeling uneasy.

“Hey Richard.” He said, at lunch when they were sitting together at their usual table. “That stuff you were talking about…the thing with the cream…that didn’t have anything to do with what happened? Did it?”

It had being about two weeks ago, just after Mr Gold, the drama teacher had told Richard in private he got the part. The rest of the school weren’t told for another week, but Richard was so excited he had to tell John. And John realised that Richard playing the “king of the fairies” would give Carl fodder for life. Richard had just smiled.

“I know a way Carl won’t tease us ever again.”  
That weekend, Richard had told John to meet him at by the pool. John's job was to slip into the changing room and steal Carl's spare tube of Eczema cream. Richard had a jar of honey. 

He’d heated up the honey, “just to body temperature John, I’ve being incubating it for nearly a month, it should be ready now” and injected it through the metal seal on the tube, but near the edge so that it wouldn’t be immediately obviously. He’d then made John squeeze the tube lightly, “to keep out the oxygen” and replace it back in Carl’s locker before practise was over. John couldn’t see how making Carl’s hands sticky was going to make him stop teasing them and said so, but Richard had an annoying superior smile on his face and John had decided to leave it. The situation wouldn’t get any worse, or so it seemed at the time.

Only now, he was thinking about Carl, Carl who sometimes seemed more fish than boy, Carl who was the school's champion swimmer, Carl who was as fit as a fiddle, could have drowned.

Richard looked up from his play script, raising one eyebrow. “Of Course John," he said, as though John was being really stupid asking that question. "I told you, Carl wouldn't tease us again."

“But…” he struggled. “The honey, in the” He looked around, but even with Carl dead, no one dared to come to close to them. Even though Sebastian Moran, Carl’s right hand man, was wondering around looking confused, almost like a puppet with his strings cut, rather than targeting anyone. “Eczema cream?”

Richard gave a funny laugh, which made John’s skin crawl, though he didn’t know why. “Honey is a source of Botulism spores. They grow best at body temperature and in anaerobic environment, but the spores and the toxin they produce are not destroyed by cold temperatures.” He smiled. “Don’t worry, they won’t find it. Everyone thinks it was a fit, just one of those things.”

“But…”John couldn’t believe this was happening, that he was sitting opposite Richard Brookes, the quietest kid in the school and discussing the fact that they had murdered their classmate. 

They... John went white, thinking about the Eczema cream. His fingerprints would be all over it. In fact, other than Carl’s, his would be the only fingerprints on it. 

Richard must have read something of this in his face, as he patted his hand in what, for Richard, was a reassuring manner.

“Don’t worry John. No one’s going to find out.”

But John did worry. In fact, he couldn’t sleep.

In the end, even Harry noticed (which as she was blind drunk most of the time these days, was something of a miracle) and told him to tell someone what was worrying her.

And he tried. But no one believed him. Even Ms Doyle, who always asked him about his bruises and looked upset when he told her what dad told him to tell any noisy parkers, didn’t.

“I know you’re upset about what happened to Carl, John, we all are.” She said, cleaning up the classroom at the end of the day. “But it wasn’t your fault. It was just…” She shrugged. “One of those things that happen sometimes and we don’t know why. But it was nothing to do with you.”

And when he tried to tell her about the honey and the Eczema cream, she smiled. “John, I know Carl wasn’t nice to you and Richard. And I don’t doubt that you and Richard might have even wished Carl dead, maybe even thought you found a spell or something that might make him sick, but it didn’t. It was an accident.”

She looked him in the eyes when she said that, like when she asked how he really broke his wrist last month.

He heard her talking to the headmaster later.

“…seems very upset. He genuinely believes that he and Richard were responsible.”

“Hardly surprising.” The Headmaster had said, “With boys of their background.” John scowled at that, even though he wasn’t supposed to be listening. Alright, he and Richard both came into school bruised and in clothes that were the wrong size or torn more often than not, but it didn’t mean he was making things up. Not even while Dad was away at the special hospital that would make him stop drinking and hurting him and Harry. He wasn’t lying.

The night of Richard’s debut, John begged enough money for a train ticket from Harry. He knew from the school’s newsletter where the meet had being held, and even though it was late, the door was still unlocked when he got there. 

He slipped in and looked down at the pool. It looked beautiful in the faint light, not still and peaceful, like he thought it would be, but moving, hitting against the sides, like it wanted out.

He was pleased. Something bad had happened here, and it wouldn’t have being right if the water was calm after that.

“I’m sorry, Carl.” He whispered, “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t know what he would have done, what would have happened next, if he hadn’t heard the voice.

“Told you at least a million times, you can’t be in here.”

“And I’ve told you,” The other voice is different. Younger with what John thinks of as a posh accent. “If it was a natural death, then what happened to his trainers? Carl Powers was murdered and you and the police are letting his killer go free.”

“Right.” The other man sounded frustrated. “Out you go. Don’t want me to call your brother again, do you?”

In the distance, a door shut. John stood by the water shivering. Someone knew. Someone believed him that he and Richard had killed Carl. Someone knew the truth.

“Bloody kids,” he’d being so caught up in his thoughts, he didn’t hear the door open. “What another of you? I suppose you’re going to start going on at me that the kid who died was murdered, right?”

John shook his head. “No sir.” He said, keeping his voice respectful, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets so the man couldn’t see they were shaking. “Just wanted to know how much for a swim?””

“How much for a swim? Cheeky young monkey. Get out of here. OUT NOW!”

John headed out, fighting the grin on his face. The streets outside were dark and deserted and he wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to get back home (Harry had only had enough money for a single), but he didn’t care. Someone knew. Someone knew and was trying to prove it. And if he waited long enough, they would find out how Carl had died and they would find him and Richard.

He was almost skipping as he walked back down the street.

**Author's Note:**

> science stuff. Botulism toxin is actually very hard for an amateur to grow, as it requires an oxygen free enviroment. The main source is improperly heated canned or otherwise preserved foods, though honey spores can contain Boutulism spores, which can kill infants (hence the warning not to give honey to babies). I don't think that the plan I suggested here would work, but I don't recommend any one tries it.


End file.
